Interstate 93 1821.2 (zero miles, 795.8 total miles)
I had a nice big bed in Chet’s large garage that serves as a hostel, and was the only one inside for the night. Paddington, Rocco, and Sunshine were all tenting outside.
I hadn’t slept in my tent in quite some time, so I was tempted to set mine up as well, but it seemed like more work than it was worth personally. I know Sunshine enjoyed hers, though.
I slept well, though my sinuses were acting up all night and into the morning. A large storm system was working its way from the central US to the East Coast, and the change in pressure was causing my head to feel very congested.
Sunshine and I walked over to Flapjacks around 8:30. I got pancakes and bacon, and reflected sadly on my lack of hiker hunger. We met a NOBO’s dad at the bar eating, and he told us about his son, Feather, who was nearby.
I was feeling discouraged and frustrated on and off all day. OCD makes me ruminate and blame myself for everything, and it’s been really getting at me lately. I think being in the woods helps tame my anxiety, but eventually I will get back to normal thru hiking life, I’m sure.
Sunshine was really supportive, and let me vent and empathized with my frustration. She wants to get back in the woods just as much as I do, hence the sleeping in her tent in Chet’s backyard last night.
We met up with Catchup at Hobo Hills Adventure Golf around 10AM. He had biked from the Notch Hostel with one of their loaner bikes, and we started to play mini golf in the muggy weather.
Sunshine got a hole in one, Catchup won overall, and I enjoyed myself, but was reminded that mini golf isn’t my best game. There were a lot of families out, having the same idea as us, to play before the rain came.
We walked over to Lahout’s Outfitter in town. Sunshine and Catchup got a couple things. I needed new shorts, but they were all very pricey for my taste. I did find some picaridin bug spray, though, which I preferred much more than DEET.
After a quick lunch at Subway, it was time to head over to the theater for a 1:15 showing of Where the Crawdads Sing. I’d read the book shortly before trail, and was excited for the movie.
I try to keep my expectations low for film adaptations, but I actually thought the film did an excellent job of representing the book’s overall tone and story. It was nice to get lost in something other than my own head for a while.
We had walked almost a mile to the theater in pouring rain, and it had taken the entire movie to dry my wool leggings. Catchup wasn’t totally enthused about biking back to another town in the downpour, so we came up with a plan.
I called Maureen of Ali’s Shuttles, and she said she’d come get us in half an hour. Catchup biked to Chet’s, where he’d agreed to let him keep the bike for the night.
For only $5 each I was happy to pay for a ride to Chet’s and not get soaked again. I know, brave hiker that I am. I was getting soft from all the town time I’d spent.
Maureen then picked up Catchup from Chet’s and drove him back to the Notch. Sunshine, Paddington, and Rocco set up bunks inside, and there were a few new hikers who’d arrived. Altogether there were now six or seven of us staying inside waiting out the weather.
Chet came out to the garage and hung out for a while. I had a good time chatting with him, and he educated me on the Native American name for Mount Washington, Agiocochook. He also told me how Moosilauke was considered a sacred place for ceremony.
Sunshine and I both took naps, and I did some reading and listened to music. I knew I would feel better soon when I was back in the woods Wednesday.
I’d tried to convince the other two to hike tomorrow, but the weather was still looking sketchy. Missing Franconia Ridge in good weather would be a shame, anyway.
I had to live with the decisions I’d made, and accept the things I couldn’t change or control. I knew there was no point in beating myself up or feeling bad about it. I was probably just addicted to the stress chemicals in my brain firing off.
Who’s to say that all of this wasn’t happening for a reason and I was being protected from overworking my body and mind? Why did I think I had to be in control of every little thing and that it was a personal failure if I wasn’t?
As usual, the trail was showing me my blind spots. Or at least, the things I knew I struggled with but didn’t usually have the space and time to work on them enough. Now I had nothing but space and time. Was I going to waste this opportunity to achieve some personal growth and resiliency?
Flexibility, going with the flow, not overachieving. All these things I didn’t have a grasp on. The last time I was on the trail, I got vortexed all the time, I was way too relaxed, and wasted so much time and the possibility of achieving a thru hike.
That’s why I spent the first month and a half completely pushing myself to make up for my past attempt. I didn’t take any double zeros, I didn’t let myself get sucked into towns. I worked hard, and gave myself almost no grace to have a more relaxed experience.
Now I feel as if my hike is slipping through my grasp, and I sincerely fear that. I am probably overreacting, I know that, but it is just so tempting to dwell on it all.
Either way, I’m not hiking till the day after tomorrow. I could waste my time being upset about it, or enjoy the break and use it to my benefit. I don’t think it’s the time off I should be afraid of, but rather letting my mental state spiral.
It’s like breaking an addiction. One indulgence doesn’t mean giving up completely. Yet, all too often perfectionists let that be the case. I know because I am guilty of it sometimes.
I am living one of my ultimate dreams, and why shouldn’t I enjoy the experience, no matter how long it takes me? “Last one to Katahdin wins” is an AT saying for a reason.